


The Cellist

by CircusBones



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, F/M, First Meetings, Pheels, Phil Coulson is a pimp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 02:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusBones/pseuds/CircusBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>About how a lady once met a man at a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cellist

**Author's Note:**

> The one that Clark Gregg told me he liked. Yeah, I'm still shamelessly basking in that glow.

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"The thing is, my job doesn't leave much time for making a relationship happen," The man she's met at her friends' birthday party is telling her. Phil, he said his name was. They'd been talking about their favorite movies, which had led to recent movies, which had led to when the last either of them had been on a date. He's a quiet-looking guy...forgettable at first glance, and a bit older than the men she usually notices, but on second glance, his eyes are really, really blue, and expressive, and she doesn't think she's imagining that the arms under the rather unimaginative button-up are kind of buff.

"I thought you worked with Alice?" She tilts her head toward the birthday girl, her blonde, pretty friend from the gym and dog park. Phil shakes his head,

"No, ah, my cousin actually," He notes mildly. She knows he's not really that mild, though. He'd come right up to her after she'd sashayed into the room, in a pair of red heels she was particularly proud of. "I work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

"...Well, if it's as time-consuming to work there as it is to recite..." She grins, tilting her head to the side. She makes him smile, and that feels like an accomplishment. "I really don't date much either, I travel a lot, performing."

"Violin?"

"Uh, no," She blinks, surprised, "Cello. How did you...?"

"Fingers," That poker face again, but those mischievous eyes don't lie, as he glances at the hand holding her wine glass, "Callouses, but not really like a guitar-players'. You're used to holding a bow in your right hand."

"You're good," She bites her lip despite herself. "I play with a traveling symphony, we're in town for the next few weeks."

"Look," He says, his voice still set in that even timbre, as he fixes her with his gaze, and despite herself, she's looking back at him steadily, "I could ask you out in the hopes that we'd hit it off around coffee, but honestly, I already know we would," That steady, measured smile is back, "Your favorite movie is American Graffiti, you and Alice both love corgis, although you've always wanted a white German Shepard, you're sharp as a whip, and you're beautiful," He adds on, without an ounce of ego in his voice, "And you think I'm attractive."

"I do," She smirks, shaking her head, and his measured smile widens.

"So let's go ahead and say we're dating. We're going to be dating. Both of us are probably busy on the weekends with work, but the midweek will be surprisingly free."

"It will be," Why is this actually turning her on? She doesn't know, but it is.

"So let's say we meet on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, because we're dating."

"Because we're dating," She lifts her glass to meet his, berry-colored lips parting in a smile.

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End file.
